


Season's Greetings

by BelladonnaWyck



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM Scene, Bottom Hannibal, Dominant Switch Will, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fannibal xmas exchange, M/M, Nontraditional Gift Giving, Photographs, Public Sex, Shibari, Submissive Switch Hannibal, Top Hannibal, light aftercare, sort of christmas fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck
Summary: Hannibal had wanted to give his submissive something precious and unique this year, and when he’d brought up a Shibari demonstration for the club, Will’s eyes had grown dark with desire. He loved tying Hannibal up, holding him down, anytime the Dominant allowed it.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60
Collections: Fannibal Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	Season's Greetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wwwww](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwwww/gifts).



Hannibal knows how he looks like this, can feel the eyes pinned to him as readily as he’s pinned to the stage. His wrists and ankles are already tied in soft silk, feet anchored to the floor and his arms held high above him on a hook, stretching his torso out for Will’s perusal. 

“Doing so well for me, baby. Staying so still.” Will praises him, openly and without shame, placing a fond kiss to Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal knows Will is both giving him affection and checking his pulse, though he needn’t worry. Hannibal is blissful, the heady, warm honey feeling of being cared for and adored clogging up his throat with emotion. He so rarely lets himself feel this, his preferences leaning far more in the realm of Dominance and Sadism, but something about Will has always challenged the very foundations of his beliefs and expectations. 

This part of the demonstration Hannibal knows is part Christmas gift and part educational, yet he’s no less desperate for Will’s affection, for his touch. He’d wanted to give his submissive something precious and unique this year, and when he’d brought up a Shibari demonstration for the club, Will’s eyes had grown dark with desire. He loved tying Hannibal up, holding him down, anytime the Dominant allowed it. Will was submissive by nature but his tendency was to accommodate the needs of his partner, which had often left him in a more dominant role throughout his life. With Hannibal he fell apart beautifully under the slightest of attentions, but he could also be a bit sadistic in his own right. 

Hannibal lets himself drift for a few minutes, his mind wandering back to the first time he’d let Will do this to him, several months into their relationship after Will had found himself, quite by accident, in this very club. That night, much like this one, there had been a demonstration, though Hannibal had been leading that one, showing proper caning form. Tonight, however, Hannibal had given over control to his darling boy, and Will was performing admirably, his smirk mischievous and his eyes hard. It set something ablaze in Hannibal’s groin, and he found himself struggling a bit against the chest harness. 

Will was a natural at Shibari, his experience with fishing lures and lines enough to have him perfecting the basics far more quickly than any other novice. He’d become such an expert in the year since he’d started training that now he actually gave presentations sometimes, when the mood struck, of his skills. Tonight they were doing a simple chest harness, the purpose of this evening more about displaying Hannibal and humiliating him slightly, just to the edge of what Hannibal would accept. He enjoyed Will’s dominance in the rare moments it surfaced, loved it especially when the other man allowed some of his own sadism to show. He was usually a perfect submissive and masochist, overjoyed to let Hannibal hurt him in new and evolving ways; but on nights like tonight he was a creature wholly unique and other, and Hannibal adored him. 

“Is that too tight, sweetheart?” Will yanks on the harness where it’s stretched around Hannibal’s broad chest, pulling a surprised gasp from his lips. The rope they’d selected tonight is soft but has a rough edge to it when it rubs against his skin and he knows there will be pink and red marks all over him by the end of the night. He relishes every single one. 

“No, Sir.” Hannibal manages to breathe out, polite and quiet. He respects Will’s position on nights like this, though sometimes it requires all of his attention to stay his tongue.

Once the harness is secure and complete, Will steps back to examine the result. Hannibal has no doubt it looks perfect, artful and inspired as all of Will’s numerous designs are... He’s an attractive man, he can acknowledge it and has used it as a means of manipulation more often than he can truly recall. And yet, he never feels more perfect than when Will is looking at him with such hunger.

“You look beautiful like this for me, darlin’. My perfect little plaything, hm?” Will’s accent is always more pronounced as his arousal heightens, and it twists something in Hannibal’s gut to hear the honeyed, lazy vowels and lilted consonants; remnants of Will’s youth unlocked for Hannibal’s enjoyment. Because he  _ did that.  _ He made Will sound like that, through nothing more than the simple act of his willing submission. 

Before he can form a response Will is shifting forward, one hand working the button on his jeans free and pulling out his cock - he’s gone without underwear today and it pushes fire through Hannibal’s veins to think about. Will strokes himself absently, smearing pre-come down his shaft before he’s filling Hannibal’s vision, his mouth; sliding all the way in until his cockhead bumps the back of Hannibal’s unprepared throat. Even without a warning Hannibal doesn’t gag, his reflexes well controlled. 

Will isn’t leisurely, he doesn’t start off slow or give Hannibal any time to adjust before he’s fucking his face with a singular focus, chasing his own pleasure while his eyes rove over Hannibal’s form. Hannibal isn’t certain how this might go; he knows Will plans to fuck him but Will has been known to come more than once in a night so his sprint towards release isn’t an indicator one way or the other. 

“You feel so good, such a perfect little slut. Letting me show you off to everybody here. You’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you, baby? ‘Cause you just love it when I hurt you.” 

Contrary to his words, Will doesn’t immediately hurt him, instead his knuckles find Hannibal’s cheek, impossibly gentle against where his cock stretches Hannibal’s flesh out. Hannibal looks up at where Will stands so powerfully above him, feels water gathering in the edges of his lashes. He blinks slowly, purposefully, and the tears spill down his cheeks, his vision blurred through a salt-film. 

Will slaps him, then, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to remind him of his place, to chastise him for trying to be beautiful instead of simply being Will’s. Will detests the performative nature of Hannibal’s submission at times, and Hannibal doesn’t want their Christmas spoiled by his need for an aesthetic. He closes his eyes again, letting himself get lost in the sensations as Will grabs his hair and fucks into his throat, Hannibal’s muscles flexing and squeezing around the intrusion. 

“There we go, there’s my good boy. Wanna come on that pretty, perfect face, hm?” Hannibal’s eyes open at that, and Will takes the opportunity for what it is and rips his wet cock from Hannibal’s mouth, stroking himself with fervor until he’s spilling across Hannibal’s nose and cheeks seconds later, some of his release clinging to Hannibal’s spider-leg lashes. 

Will uses his thumb to push some of his come across Hannibal’s chin and past his lips, smearing it on his tongue and using that same thumb to hold Hannibal’s mouth open, as though inspecting merchandise. It’s degrading, and it only makes Hannibal’s arousal spark like electricity through his veins. 

“Let’s take some pictures, folks. Make sure to get some good angles, they’re going in the Christmas bulletin and will hang on the entry board for the next week.” Will’s eyes glint mischievously, and Hannibal is helpless but to smile at him. Will loves this part, sharing Hannibal without actually sharing him, giving people nothing more than a teasing taste of him without ever allowing them to touch him or use him. 

Will grabs the Polaroid camera they brought for the occasion, and snaps the first photo. When it prints from the bottom of the camera Will shakes it out and shows it to Hannibal, and he nearly gasps at the sight. He sees himself how Will sees him, debauched, filthy, and no less lovely for it. He’s been elevated to art, transformed through Will’s affections and machinations. A bead of pre-come pulses from the head of his cock at the thought, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“You do so love being on display, don’t you? An attention whore if ever I saw one.” The crowd gathered around them chuckles and Will passes the camera to someone nearby, each person taking a photo of Hannibal, handing it off to Will, and then passing the camera on. Will shows Hannibal each photo before putting them all in a silk bag to keep until he can get them added to the monthly bulletin for the club. Hannibal’s cock aches with how aroused he is, and still Will ignores him until the group on the stage finally thins out. 

“Y'all ready for the  _ climax?”  _ Will asks, and Hannibal hears the crowd laughing and talking amongst themselves as Will moves around the stage out of Hannibal’s sight. Hannibal doesn’t fidget, but even his perfect self control and patience is wearing out as his arousal increases. 

Suddenly, Will is back in his vision, crowding out everything else until he’s all Hannibal can see. He’s fully nude now, and holding a metal cock ring, one of the more uncomfortable ones they play with from time to time. It’s usually beautiful wrapped around Will’s cock and balls, fitting him snuggly. On Hannibal it’s nearly unbearable, and he grimaces internally. 

His hesitation must be apparent to Will because the other man stops, kneeling down and taking Hannibal by the chin, forcing eye contact. “What’s your color?” 

Hannibal knows Will won’t mind if he asks for a different toy, their relationship well past the awkward early stages some couples face where one or both are afraid to use the light system properly, or to safe word. 

“Green, Sir,” he decides after a few moments of deliberation. Will must see the honesty in his expression because he hums, nodding as he stands and takes another step forward. 

He takes Hannibal by the front of his chest harness, lowering him until he’s lying flat on the stage. There’s a thick mat down for Hannibal’s comfort, and he sinks into it now as Will kisses down his chest, licking between the gaps in the harness and tracing a line from Hannibal's throat down to his naval. 

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” Will winks at Hannibal playfully, eyes almost painfully fond as he straddles his prone form, his knees slotting perfectly along either side of his rib cage, thighs flexing teasingly as he settles back on Hannibal’s groin. 

Hannibal is often surprised by Will’s unpredictability, but when Will places the cockring on himself instead of on Hannibal, he lets out a small sound of surprise in his throat. “Did you think it was for you, baby? No, I want you to control yourself because it’s what I desire, not because you had help. This is for me, wanna see if you can make me come again.” 

Hannibal nearly preens, of  _ course  _ he can make Will come if left to his own devices. And then Will continues. “ - You aren’t allowed to come until I do.” Hannibal very nearly whines at that, but this gift is as much for Will as it is for himself and he finds he desperately wants to give him this. 

“Yes, Sir,” he nods, and Will leans down to press an almost chaste kiss to his swollen lips, still slick with come and spit. It’s filthy, but he purrs at the sensation, smirking against Will’s mouth. 

There’s no warning before Will is wrapping a calloused palm around Hannibal’s cock and bringing it to his rim, already wet with lubricant. He wonders at when Will had time to fill himself with slick before the demonstration, but the thread of consideration is lost to him as soon as Will starts to sink down. He’s warm and wet and so very tight around Hannibal, muscles squeezing viciously at his shaft. 

He groans, hurtling close enough to the edge of release to be made breathless from it, surprised by how on edge he is nearly immediately. “Are you my good boy?” Will asks, and from any other mouth it would be degradation, condescending and rude; a killable offense. But from Will it’s wrapped up in praise, in the warmth of his affection for Hannibal, and it makes Hannibal’s chest clench. 

When Hannibal doesn’t answer immediately Will stills completely and holds his gaze. “Do you need your ring, darling? You won’t disappoint me if you tell me you need it.”

Hannibal shakes his head fiercely, still silent, but at Will’s continued piercing gaze he replies with words. “Yes Sir, I can be good. I don’t need it.” He repeats, the sounds forced from his lungs by sheer will-power alone.

“Good.” Will winks and then starts a punishing pace, bouncing himself on Hannibal’s cock as he holds him down with one hand behind him on Hannibal’s thigh, and his other hand pressed to the center of Hannibal’s chest. His fingers tease over the interlacing ropes still digging into Hannibal’s skin just slightly, not uncomfortable or constricting - Will’s Shibari is never anything but perfect - but it does feel centering, comforting, and restraining enough that Hannibal doesn’t even consider trying to take control of the situation. 

“You’re so pretty like this, all wrapped up like the most delicious Christmas present. You’re just waiting for me to unwrap you, hm?” Will pauses, instead of bouncing he grinds himself in slow, lazy figure eights against Hannibal’s lap, surely hitting his prostate with each downward thrust. It’s maddening, the pace slowing so rapidly after such a fever pitch, and it somehow brings Hannibal impossibly closer to the edge, his cock pulsing thickly in the hot vice of Will’s body. 

“What if I didn’t let you? What if I kept you just like this, perfect and pretty and on edge for me all night? What if I asked you to  _ beg me?”  _

Hannibal groans, but stays still and behaved, placidly accepting of whatever decision Will makes. He knows this game well, and he’s happy to give Will this if it’s what he desires, he’s painfully aware he’d give Will anything he asked.

Will slaps him again, slightly harder than the first time but still a soft caress compared to some of their harder play. Hannibal tries to clear his thoughts, trace back Will’s questioning. He nearly whines when he manages to collect himself enough, and the wounded sound he makes gets stuck behind his teeth but Will still hears it, his eyes going stormy with mischief. “Yeah, I think you’d let me do whatever I want to you and you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you? Such a fucking slut for it, just need me to take you in hand and  _ squeeze.”  _ Will moves the hand on Hannibal’s chest to his throat, graceful fingers wrapping around the muscled column and pressing just slightly. 

It’s not enough to keep Hannibal from breathing, but it still makes him breathless regardless, his air hitching somewhere in his chest and sticking there. Will squeezes tighter for several seconds, watching as Hannibal’s control slips  _ just enough  _ for his lips to part in an aborted attempt at breath and then Will releases him, leaving Hannibal gasping even though his airflow had never truly been compromised. 

“Will, please -” Hannibal moans, and Will’s eyes narrow in pleasure as he starts up his pace again, more frantic than before as though he’s as close as Hannibal feels, chasing his pleasure using Hannibal’s body. 

“Please what, sweetheart. You’ll need to be specific.” 

Hannibal’s too far gone to be concerned for how he looks or sounds, as close to the bliss of subspace as he ever truly gets, his thoughts blissfully slow as they come to him, though crystalline in their clarity. Submitting to Will is always a revelation, leaving Hannibal feeling hollowed out and refilled with nothing but Will’s regard. 

“Please, use me, Sir. Take your pleasure from my body, whatever you want.” 

The words are possibly far more honest than he’d typically allow himself to be, raw and exposed as he is, but they must be precisely what Will was waiting for because he slams himself down onto Hannibal’s cock and comes all across his lower abdomen, snaking his hand back down Hannibal’s torso to rub his release into the smattering of hair below Hannibal’s navel. Hannibal realizes absently he’d barely noticed Will has managed to get hard again fucking himself on Hannibal. 

Hannibal  _ whines  _ at the sensation, a creature of nothing but feeling and everything is heightened,  _ more.  _ Will leans down over him, smearing his come even further between their bodies as he captures Hannibal’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down enough to stain Hannibal’s teeth copper, the flavor exploding on his tongue. 

“Come for me, baby, fill me up.” It’s a command, something stable for Hannibal to cling to and obey. Will doesn’t stop moving on his lap, even when the edges of his mouth curl in overstimulation and his thighs shake where they frame either side of Hannibal’s body. He moves with a singular focus, intent to draw Hannibal’s release from him by force. 

In the end his orgasm feels more like falling, like sinking into a warm bath as his muscles uncoil and he spills into Will’s clenching body. He barely hears the murmured praise whispered against his sweat-matted hair, hardly feels the gentle kisses pressed to his temple, his cheeks, his bruised mouth. 

Will pulls on one of the lengths of rope coiled around Hannibal’s body and the entire harness falls from him, pooling on the floor against his back. He’s led from the stage to quiet applause, the crowd nothing more than a blur of motion around him. Will settles him into a bed with sheets that smell of laundry soap and feel so soft against his fevered skin; he can’t help but sink into them mindlessly, his bones like lead and his mind soft, muted around the edges but still clear enough to recognize the feel of Will’s body framing his own, his chest pressed to Hannibal’s back and his strong, well-muscled arms wrapped around him. 

He drifts just like that, safe and content for a while, and then Will’s words start to form more coherently, the other man still praising him where his lips move against Hannibal’s nape. 

“So good for me, absolutely perfect. You were beautiful out there, sweetheart. Always submit to me so amazingly. You’re everything to me, love you so much.” 

Hannibal clears his throat, moving himself in the protective circle of Will’s arms until they are face to face. Will shifts enough to grab a glass of water from the small nightstand, and brings the straw to Hannibal’s lips. He obediently takes several deep pulls, watching Will’s lashes fan out against his cheeks, his eyes the still, placid blue of the ocean at peace as he watches him back.

“Merry Christmas, Will. Thank you.” He finally manages once Will pulls the straw away, voice sated and exhausted. Will cracks a broad grin at him, his teeth flashing in the low, sepia lighting. Hannibal thinks he’s never been more beautiful. 

“Merry Christmas, Hannibal.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and for the year of amazing support! And thanks to my Fannibal Gift Exchange partner who gave me so much room to play with their prompt! I hope you enjoy this bit of Christmas Filth! <3


End file.
